A Stranger's House

by Clare Chase

‘A five-year-old could have tracked it down. The page was even bookmarked for God’s sake.’

  ‘You didn’t say you thought that on the phone,’ Steph said, accusingly, as though I’d been holding out on her.

  ‘The information’s been gradually settling in my mind. I think he’s leading her in a carefully choreographed dance, and I’m the mug who’s caught up in it.’ I drained my tea and asked the inevitable. ‘Anyway, what’s new in the village? Has the gossip died down?’

  She took my hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘Not really, if I’m honest. Luke’s keeping a very low profile, but I’m quite sure he’s suffering for what he’s done.’

  I gave her a look. ‘At least there’s some justice in this world.’

  When Steph had gone, I wondered again about the mobile that had been sent to Damien Newbold. I was still debating whether or not to call the number using the house phone and it was playing on my mind. What were the chances of someone answering? The idea of being able to talk to them – and tell them the phone had missed its target – was still tempting. Not knowing who was behind it made me edgy. I took the number I’d noted down out of my bag and sat there looking at it. I got as far as taking it to the hall table, picking up the phone and dialling the first four digits, but then I got cold feet.

  Turning back to the kitchen, I worked a bit more on my book, but it was hard to concentrate. I’d thought house-sitting would slot neatly alongside my writing, but it was proving to be thoroughly disruptive. I went through the motions for a while, but what I really needed was something mindless to do. There were several outdoor jobs listed on the itinerary of domestic chores, and getting some fresh air would distract me from panicking over Nate’s impending visit. I started off in the walled garden at the back, but Damien Newbold’s notes were particularly insistent about some pernicious weeds that grew along the sidewall of the house. Apparently they worked their way into the mortar and compromised the damp course. I took the small green compost bin from the kitchen and set to work, crouched down, wiggling away at the roots.

  It was only a couple of minutes before I heard the door to Oswald House open behind my back. I glanced over my shoulder and saw the blonde, curly-haired girl coming down the steps.

  ‘Hi,’ I said. It seemed appropriate, since I’d caught her eye.

  She blanked me and made as though to walk towards the Common, her mouth stretched taut. God, was this because I was at Damien Newbold’s house, and people therefore assumed I was associated with him? It seemed far-fetched, but I couldn’t think of any other reason for her refusal to acknowledge me. ‘I’m new here,’ I said to her retreating back. ‘House-sitting for the owner.’ Who I’ve never met, and am sure I would hate, I almost added.

  The blonde girl turned for a moment. ‘You’re a friend of his then?’

  I shook my head. ‘Just an agency employee; I’ve never met him.’

  The girl’s shoulders relaxed and she came over to me. ‘I’m Fi,’ she said. ‘I house share next door. I’d shake your hand but …’

  ‘I’m very muddy,’ I said. ‘Yes, I know, don’t worry.’

  She smiled. ‘I’m sorry I pretended not to hear you before. I assumed you were maybe a girlfriend of Damien’s and, well, to be honest our household’s had a bit of a falling out with him.’

  ‘I see.’ I was dying to draw information out of her, but the only obvious way to get her to confide was to start gossiping about him myself, and there were limits. At least chatting to Steph was keeping it in the family. This Fi girl was another matter.

  ‘You’re off out then?’ I said instead, so that she could take her cue and carry on without embarrassment if our conversation was at an end.

  She nodded. ‘There’s only Emily in just now – my housemate – and she needs a bit of space.’

  It seemed odd that Fi should have to go out to give anyone a bit of space in a place the size of Oswald House. It was just as big as Damien Newbold’s pad. At that moment though, Mr Herringbone Suit turned up. I’d swear his eyes narrowed when he saw me too, standing by Damien Newbold’s open back gate. But perhaps it was my DMs.

  Fi explained what I was doing there, and then he too unbent.

  ‘I’m Paul,’ he said, also eyeing my hands.

  ‘Ruby,’ I said. Personally, I had not unbent and didn’t intend to. I still wasn’t sure what he was up to, but visiting this Emily girl and requiring a whole houseful of space seemed to confirm all my suspicions.

  Once he’d gone inside I said, ‘Ah! So that’s why Emily wanted space!’ in a horribly phoney, girls-together, nudge-nudge, wink-wink voice.

  ‘Oh, no,’ Fi said, surprised into laughing for a moment. ‘It’s nothing like that. I mean, he’s old enough to be her dad or something, isn’t he?’

  He hadn’t looked all that old. Probably not much older than me. ‘He’d have to be a pretty young one,’ I said, bristling slightly.

  ‘No, but you know what I mean. Anyway, there’s definitely nothing like that going on. He’s actually from our college, St Audrey’s; he’s Emily’s tutor, so he’s her first port of call for welfare issues. That’s why he’s here, to be honest. Em’s been going through a bit of a rough patch lately.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said, all my theories pushed aside. That was a relief in one way, but it still meant there was something wrong. The memory of Emily’s sad eyes replayed in my head; they were the kind that looked tired out by the number of nights they’d spent crying. I recognised them.

  ‘He’s been terribly correct, as a matter of fact,’ Fi went on. ‘Always sees Emily in the communal sitting room, and he usually asks me to sit in if I’m there.’

  ‘And that’s why you’re escaping?’

  She blushed. ‘Yes. Emily doesn’t want me watching her every move; she’s admitted that. And I just get embarrassed.’

  On the spur of the moment I said, ‘Do you fancy a cup of tea?’

  She hesitated.

  ‘Don’t worry – no obligation. It’s just that I was about to stop for one myself, but if you’ve got somewhere to go …’

  ‘I haven’t really. It would be nice – just so long as I’m not spotted loitering or Paul Mathewson might drag me back in again.’

  So we sneaked through the gate and sat in the garden of River House, which I felt wouldn’t be breaking Nate’s rules about visitors.

  ‘Is it usual for women students to see male members of staff when they’ve got problems?’ I asked.

  ‘It depends what stage things get to. Dr Mathewson’s in the front line, and he’d be the person to refer Emily on to one of the university counsellors, if that was required.’ Fi accepted one of the chocolate digestives Steph had left behind.

  ‘I’m glad it hasn’t been.’

  Fi pulled a face. ‘Actually, I think it’s just what Emily could do with, but she’s not having any of it.’

  I raised an eyebrow.

  ‘The fact is, I called Paul Mathewson in without asking her. She’s going along with it – thanks to his gentleness and tact, I think – but she’s not willing to take the next step. On the upside, he takes his responsibilities seriously. He’s done some kind of short counselling course himself, I think.’

  ‘I’m getting to know his face,’ I said, pushing the sugar bowl in her direction. ‘Not that I’m meaning to be nosy.’

  She took a sip of her tea, giving the sugar a miss. ‘Yes, he’s been round quite a lot. She was in a hell of a state when I first contacted him, and I actually think he really cares.’ She leant forward and lowered her voice. ‘I’m not sure how much good he’s doing though.’

  ‘I suppose some things just take time,’ I said, wondering what it was all about.

  ‘I’m sure you’re right.’

  ‘Does she have family nearby?’

  Fi rolled her eyes. ‘I’ve only met her mum, but I don’t think she’ll be any help.’

  ‘There are some things it can be very hard to discuss with a parent,’ I said. I knew I sounded as though I was probing n
ow. It was force of habit.

  Fi smiled. ‘True, but that’s not the root of the problem with Saskia – that’s Emily’s mum. You’ll soon see, I expect. I gather she’s been threatening to come round.’

  ‘Sounds like a treat in store!’

  Fi grinned. ‘As a matter of fact, it’s a family house we’re staying in. Emily’s grandmother’s. She’s supposed to be nice, but she’s abroad unfortunately.’ She paused suddenly. We’d both heard footsteps on the other side of the garden gate.

  I nipped into the kitchen for a moment and checked through the side window. ‘No sign of life from your place.’

  ‘They’ll probably be a while yet. I’d better go, and leave you to it, but thanks for the tea.’

  After she’d gone I pretended to myself that I was going to do some more gardening, but I was sick of the weeds. Before long I’d decided to stretch my legs. A trip to Boots called; I’d run out of shampoo.

  As I cut back from the Grafton shopping centre down Midsummer Lane I saw Paul Mathewson in the distance, coming out of Oswald House. Emily was on the doorstep again to see him off. And then he began walking in my direction, stopping next to a black bike with a willow basket that was D-locked to a lamp post.

  He bent to deal with the lock, but looked up as I crossed the road towards him. ‘Oh, hello again,’ he said.

  ‘Hi.’

  I made to walk past but he stood up straight as though he had more to say. ‘I’d heard from the girls at Oswald House that Damien Newbold had gone away, but neither of them realised he had a house-sitter in.’

  ‘I think it was all rather last minute.’

  Paul nodded. ‘I gathered something of the sort. I expect he was escaping all the chaos.’ He waved his hand at the remains of Strawberry Fair.

  ‘Could be,’ I said.

  Suddenly he surprised me by grinning. ‘I rather like Strawberry Fair,’ he said as though confessing a guilty secret. He held out an arm and indicated his sleeve. ‘The suit’s my day-job uniform. I had to go to a college chapel service this morning, so I had my gown on as well. But yesterday I found a scruffy old T-shirt and holey jeans and came along to the Fair in disguise. I doubt my own students would have recognised me.’ And then he laughed. It was amazing how it transformed his face. He went from being a rather quirkily old-fashioned bloke with a weird taste in clothes, to someone with an alter ego, who was quite capable of sharing a joke.

  I told him I’d been along too.

  ‘I imagine you managed to blend in much better than I did,’ he said, and then added quickly, ‘I meant that as a compliment.’

  He got on his bike, wobbled slightly as he waved me goodbye, and disappeared onto Maid’s Causeway.

  Back inside the house I tidied up my bed and the kitchen, ready for the arrival of Nate and the locksmith. Three-forty. Still twenty minutes to go. I paused in the hall by the telephone again, staring down at the number I’d left there earlier. And then at last, without acknowledging what I was doing or considering what I’d say to anyone who answered, I dialled.

  I held on for what felt like ages, hoping I could at least leave a voicemail message, but no answerphone kicked in. There was to be no resolution.

  Nate found Bill, the locksmith, in the passageway outside River House and they walked round to the front door together.

  Ruby opened up quickly when Nate knocked, and gave him a lopsided smile before turning to walk through to the kitchen, her shoulders hunched. Bill set his toolbox down in the hall, ready to get to work, but Nate followed Ruby.

  When she reached the far side of the room she put the kettle on before turning to face him again. ‘Nate, I know what you’re going to say.’

  He thought she’d probably tackle things head on this time – it was more her style – so he followed suit. ‘This man’s a pain, Ruby, pure and simple. The only thing I’m not sure of yet is the degree of shit he’s likely to throw in your direction. And however much it is, it’ll be more than you could do with right now.’ He leant back against the work surface and folded his arms. ‘Steph told me a bit about your circumstances.’

  ‘A bit?’ She gave him that half-smile again as she turned to reach for a couple of mugs.

  ‘Well, we both know Steph, your best friend, my favourite cousin … Anyway, what she gave away makes me all the more uneasy about your being here. Seems to me you’ve had enough to deal with recently.’

  She looked round at him, one eyebrow raised. ‘Are you seriously saying you don’t want me to do this job any more because I’ve come face to face with one of Damien Newbold’s girlfriends wearing loud make-up and waving a threatening cigarette?’

  Nate couldn’t suppress a smile, just for a moment.

  ‘Now the locks have been changed I won’t even have that sort of excitement to entertain me.’ She gave a deliberate sigh. ‘Things are going to be so dull. Coffee, or tea?’

  She was doing it again. He suddenly realised he’d unfolded his arms. ‘Coffee, thanks.’

  ‘To my mind,’ she went on, sorting out the cafetière, ‘everything that’s happened so far is probably down to this one woman. Now that she knows he really isn’t here, it’s going to be plain sailing from my point of view. I wouldn’t fancy being in Newbold’s shoes though.’ She was looking at him from under her long lashes and Nate felt his smile creeping back.

  It wouldn’t do. He needed to lay down some ground rules at least. ‘If anything else crops up I need the full story, straightaway, whatever time of the night it is, and however insignificant it seems. Clear?’

  He watched her nod, but she was pouring the coffees, which was a good excuse not to meet his eye.

  ‘Crystal. Did you ever find out the name of my unexpected visitor? If you don’t mind me asking?’

  ‘No problem. It’s clearly not a secret.’ Newbold had patently enjoyed telling him all about it, in fact. The pleasure was all his. ‘Name’s Maggie Cook, apparently, and I gather she’s a reasonably well-known actor if you happen to watch something called Mike’s Friday. She’s also a semi-precious girlfriend of his.’

  Ruby raised one dark eyebrow a fraction as she put the coffees on the table.

  ‘He didn’t put it quite like that, but that was clearly what he meant.’

  ‘I knew they had a connection,’ she said, running a hand through her hair and glancing to one side as she took a seat. ‘There’s a revealing painting of her in his bedroom.’

  Nate joined her at the table. ‘Why am I not surprised?’

  ‘And how did he take the news of her coming in, and finding his temporary address?’

  ‘Cool as a cucumber.’ The memory of Newbold’s off-hand drawl set his adrenaline pumping all over again. ‘Apologised that you’d had a shock – without sounding remotely concerned about it – and said that, given he’d told her he’d be away, he’d had no inkling that she might pop round. Why should he?’

  Her eyes were on him again now, and there was a sparkle in them he hadn’t seen before. ‘Because she’s after his blood. He must have a pretty thick skin if he hasn’t realised that.’

  Nate felt himself smile.

  ‘Well, he must know she’s after him now at least, since she came looking for his address,’ Ruby went on. ‘But from what you’re saying he wasn’t angry about her having found it?’

  ‘If anything he sounded satisfied.’ He’d been wondering whether Newbold enjoyed their fights, and the passion they unleashed. He’d come across that before. And seen it get out of hand. Ruby was nodding. None of it came as a surprise to her either, apparently. She’d obviously been drawing her own conclusions, cooped up here on Newbold’s home territory. He wondered what other clues she might have unearthed. He had a feeling she was the sort who’d have noticed … He opened his mouth for a second, and leant towards her. She shifted in response, leaning forwards too. It was almost a reflex action to move in closer still … But he pulled back. She’d only leant forwards to hear what he was going to say.

  ‘In any case,’ Nate
said, after a moment, ‘he made it plain that now we’d brought the matter to his attention, he didn’t want Maggie Cook back in again. He simply told me to get the locks changed “without fail” today. And that was that.’

  ‘He sounds like a charmer.’ She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

  ‘I do occasionally find “service with a smile” a bit of a strain. I’m not sure when I’ll crack in Newbold’s case.’

  She paused for a moment. ‘Do you ever miss your old work?’ She shrugged in response to his raised eyebrow. ‘Well, you know Steph: my best friend, your favourite cousin … In your case, though, she really did tell me almost nothing.’

  Nate felt his jaw tighten – an automatic reflex – and got up from the table. ‘That’s because there’s nothing to tell. I’d better go and see how Bill’s doing.’

  And he turned and left the room, so he didn’t have to say any more.

  I found it hard to focus on supper. I kept replaying the scene with Nate in my mind. That amused appraising look had left his eyes the instant I’d asked about his old work. And then I remembered the feeling as he’d turned his back on me, cutting me out. I closed my eyes for a moment and felt shocked at how much I minded. Of course, I was at a low ebb. Making a member of the opposite sex turn away in disgust wasn’t great, even if he was just a work contact.

  I was jolted out of my reverie by my mobile, letting out its perky tune. I ought to change it for something more appropriate to my mood.

  ‘Hiya!’ It was Steph. ‘I’m just calling to let you know there’s no need to update me on your latest meeting with Nate.’

  ‘Oh right, very noble of you.’ I refused to rise to the bait and ask her why. ‘There’s nothing to report, anyway.’

  ‘Really? I had a call from him, wanting to know if I thought you were okay.’

  I waited for her to spit it out.

  ‘When he mentioned you’d told him this Maggie woman featured in one of Damien’s paintings,’ Steph went on, ‘I assumed you must have told him about the rest.’

  ‘Oh God! So you mentioned them?’

  ‘I didn’t know it was a secret. Why was it, anyway?’